


Dead Wizard's Society

by Portponky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portponky/pseuds/Portponky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thinks he's too cool for school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Wizard's Society

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fullofbloodandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofbloodandhoney/gifts).



It was an ordinary day at Hogwarts. Harry strut down the corridor listening to The Black Eyed Peas on his wizard's iPod at maximum volume. Under his breath, he was quietly beatboxing along to will.i.am and Fergie. He strode along in his wizard's cape and Adidas pump trainers, with a smouldering look in his eyes and a thorn in his heart and shoes on his feet.

Hermione jumped out from behind a suit of armour and began to yell and moan at Harry like a kettle full of milk boiling and whistling all at once. Harry reluctantly took the pristine white earbuds out of his ears so he could console her and listen to whatever it was she was on about.

“Harry Potter, don't you know that beatboxing is absolutely forbidden in the wizarding world because of the high risk of accidentally incanting something during a particularly tight riff,” she ejaculated, “what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Harry smouldered even harder than before, and thought carefully about what his personal hero, Tupac Shakur, would do in this situation. Without a moment's hesitation, he raised his thumping fist over his head and pummelled Hermione's stupid face in to a wizard's pancake. Hermione flew backwards through a brick wall and down a flight of stairs, where she exploded. “You'll never understand me,” shrieked Harry Potter before storming off.

Back in his bunk he was trying to write a diary entry. Perhaps nobody would ever understand his wizard's emotions. He cradled the pen in his hand like a giant cradling a tree trunk, or like a regular sized person cradling a tiny tree trunk, like a bonsai tree. He scribbled 'bonsai tree' down then scribbled it out. “This is all Voldemort's fault,” he muttered to himself.

Before he could finish the entry, Ron Weasley rolled in to the room and picked himself up. He stood with such perfect posture that Harry gasped slightly. Smooth locks of hair, a shade of orange so perfect that the Man from DelMonte would certainly approve of them, silkenly draped over his face. His freckles, like the spots on a dalmation, accentuated his tanned, shiny skin. He dusted off his wizard's tuxedo and greeted Harry. “That old pimp Dumbledore wants to see you. The rumour going about is that you stole Hagrid's car and ran Hermione over, lol.”

Harry smiled and chuckled and laughed and fell silent, all at once. This could be serious. He uprighted himself from bunk and gracefully touched Ron on the face with his palms.

“Ron... is it okay if I call you Ron?”

“Yes Harry,” Ron said, swallowing loudly in anticipation.

“My dear Ron,” Harry continued, “there's no need to worry. I'll tell old Dumblesnore what really happened and if he doesn't like it, he can spin on a dime.”

“Oh Harry!” Ron gushed, “I say!”

Harry made his way to the head office. He knocked with a smouldering wizard's knock. Inside sat Dumbledore, McGonagall and the head of the social services department, Pharaoh Johnsbutter. Pharaoh was wearing a pinstripe suit and sported a particularly wizardlike moustache. He stood up and said “Sorry Albus, I've actually got a meeting to go to,” and then left the room. Unbeknownst to the others, he accidentally took a wrong turn leaving the head office and fell down an open elevator shaft in to a tiny incinerator and was never seen again.

Dumbledore looked at Harry over his glasses. “Harry, there's a rumour going about concerning you.”

“The one about my massive knob?” snarked Harry, with a cutty jib.

“About your... is it?” Dumbledore stumbled, “No, Harry, No. People are saying you commandeered a helicopter and deliberately crashed it in to Hermione. She's recovering in the school's hospital right now, but doesn't remember a thing. Does this sound accurate?”

“Yeah...” said Harry, “basically,” he added.

“Why would you do something like that?” asked Dumbledore.

Harry clammed up moistly. It was time to reveal the wizard's truth. “Haven't you heard,” Harry explained, “I'm gay now.”

“Sheeeeit,” said Dumbledore.

“That's no excuse!” yelled McGonagall.

“Shut it woman, didn't you hear him?” yelled Dumbledore, “he's gay now.” Dumbledore raised his thumping hand high above his head and smashed it down in to McGonagall's stupid face, sending her flying backwards through a brick wall and down a flight of stairs where she exploded.

“Look Harry, I gotta jet,” said Dumbledore, mounting his skateboard, “if you need to sort any of this out, talk to Pharaoh Johnsbutter about it. I have to go back... to the future” He ollied out of the castle to his nearby DeLorean where he zoomed off in excess of 88 miles per hour.

“I've been left alone again,” said Harry, before defecating in Dumbledore's desk drawer.

Harry smouldered back in to his bedroom where Ron was reclining in the kitchen sink with a martini. His fiery hair shone with the colour of a thousand suns going supernovae all at once before falling in to a great big black hole that was orange instead of black. Harry went weak at the legs at the sight of him. He had never imagined such beauty.

“How did it go with old Dumblefuckface?” asked Ron, whilst lighting a cigar.

“The rumours are true,” Harry said, “I do have a massive knob.”

They chuckled and then fell instantly silent. In silence they quietly stared in to each other's eyes without making any sound at all. Harry looked in to his heart and knew the truth.

“Look,” Ron queefed, “I... I don't know how to say this...”

“Don't talk,” said Harry, putting a finger on Ron's full lush lips. He noticed that Ron's lips were enormous like Angelina Jolie's. Due to his conversion to homosexuality, the thought of Angelina Jolie was abjectly disgusting to him, so he tried to imagine her with a penis and with orange hair. That perked him up a little, if you get what I mean.

They embraced. It was like a firework going off in a kettle full of milk that was also boiling and whistling. Wizz, bang, milk.

“But Harry,” Ron oralized, “I'm not gay.”

“Well, you better go on top,” winked Harry.

That night, the stars aligned, the earth yearned out and the two of them created love. Nine months later, Bilbo Baggins was born.

 


End file.
